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She was unused to the woods, it would be easy for her to lose herself and if she did Before the thought was completed he heard the sound of a snapping stick, and knew that she had returned. He smiled with relief and waited for her appearance, but a few minutes passed before she entered the tent, bearing in her hand a tin cup. He looked at her inquiringly. "What have you there, Miss Yardely?"
There were other brooches in the world like this, thousands of them no doubt, but there were few if any at all in this wild Northland, and not for a single moment did he question that this was the one that Miss Yardely had worn. And if he were right, then the girl was safe, and no doubt was already on her way back to her uncle's camp in the care of whatever man had found her.
"Miss Yardely!" the policeman cried. "Are you Sir James Yardely's niece, who was lost a few months ago?" "The very same," answered Helen smilingly. "There's a reward out for your discovery five thousand dollars, no less." "I didn't know I was worth so much," laughed the girl.
There is evidence, and I know where that evidence is, and I will tell you what I am going to do. When we get to Fort Malsun, I shall get Mr. Rodwell to equip an expedition, and I shall recover that evidence and publish it to the world, in order to clear the memory of the man whom you have so deeply wronged." "There will be no need for that, fortunately, Miss Yardely!" said a voice behind her.
"Yes," he said grimly, "perhaps I shall. Indeed that is my hope." Helen Yardely did not pursue the matter further. Again she glimpsed depths that she did not understand, and as she ate her breakfast, she glanced from time to time at her companion, wondering what was between him and Ainley, and wondering in vain.
Whilst waiting for her to recover he had noted numerous sun-dried poles scattered about the beach, and those he pointed to. "Get about seven of those, Miss Yardely, as near equal length as you can. Gather them as close to the water's edge as possible, and then get some saplings for cross pieces.
It was a little time before either of them could speak, and it was the man who did so first. "Miss Yardely, take a little brandy. I implore you!" Helen looked up, nodded without speaking, and with shaking hands poured out a little of the spirit for herself. After a time her breath came back, and she rose to her feet. "You are mortal heavy," she said with an attempt at gaiety.
She rose, and left the tent, and he heard her pass into the wood singing to herself. A thoughtful look came on Stane's face, and presently gave place to a smile. "Happy in these circumstances!" he murmured to himself. "What a treasure of a girl!" And there was no question that Helen Yardely was happy.
She was radiantly beautiful and strong, he thought to himself, a fit mate for any man who loved strength and beauty in a woman, rather than prettiness and softness, and his admiration found sudden vent in words. "Miss Yardely, you are wonderful!" The colour in her face deepened suddenly, and there was a quick brightening in her grey eyes. "You think so?" she cried laughing in some confusion.
After a little time the babble ceased, the restlessness passed away, and his eyes closed in natural slumber. Seated on the ground, she still watched him, her face the index of troublesome thoughts; but after a little time, she began to nod, her chin dropped to her chest, and she fell into a profound sleep. "Miss Yardely! Miss Yardely!" Stane's voice awakened her two hours and a half later.
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